i fell for you my darling
by Cakestar
Summary: Unrelated song-based one-shots. And the thing is, he means every word. She really will be the best of the best on Broadway whenever she makes it, because someone who believes in him has to be the best. But the thing is, she doesn’t believe him.
1. remembering sunday: puck & quinn

**AN:** TITLE UNRELATED TO CONTENT. :)

--

**Remembering Sunday – All Time Low (Puck & Quinn)**

The thing about Quinn is that she's like that toy you always wanted when you were a kid, you know? Like, that really awesome Barbie (if you're super lame) or the motherfucking _dinosaur_ that _walks_ when it's got working batteries in it. She's like one of those toys that's like, right there, and you want it so bad, but you can't have it because you don't have enough money.

No, wait.

Okay, that's not it, 'cause it's not like you _buy_ Quinn or anything. She comes free. Not that she gives it to everyone either—okay. Okay. She's like one of those toys because, like, you just _want_ her. She's really hot and probably super flexible 'cause all cheerleaders _have_ to be, right? And shit, her face is the kind of face that you can just look at forever and not get tired of, because she's not just hot but just _pretty_ too, you know?

Okay, I guess she's a lot like that Barbie, but not lame. And she's also not into gaytards like Ken.

Sometimes though—sometimes, you _get_ that really awesome toy. Like for Christmas or something. Not that someone wrapped her up and just _gave_ her to me for Christmas and was like, "Here, have fun, you stud!" (Let's face it, I'm such a stud that it could probably happen.) As awesome as that sounds, it's not how it happened.

It happens like you get the toy on Christmas morning, and you're super pumped and you're so ready to make that motherfucking dinosaur walk all over and break everyone's lame-ass Barbie, and you have the most kickass time doing that because everyone's yelling and screaming and crying and you're just laughing your _ass_ off 'cause you got the _best present ever_. And then you put it away for the night, and you're gonna kick some more ass tomorrow, but _it's gone_.

And you're kind of like "what the fuck?" because hey, that's _your_ toy.

But then you find out that it was never _actually_ yours and it actually belongs to some idiot kid who's nice and all, and you like him well enough, but he just doesn't _get_ what he can _do_ with that walking dinosaur. He sticks to his own corner and doesn't terrorize everyone else, and what's the point of _that_?

So you wake up from some dream, or you start nightmaring or something, I dunno, and you can remember what it was like to have that toy. You can remember, like, when it smiled at you, maybe an unnatural kind of happy but you don't care 'cause you want it so bad, and it pulled you in with it upstairs, and then you started taking its clothes off. And, fuck, you've been waiting _so long_ for this, and it finally happens, and then you wake up alone and it's like everything's burning and someone shot down the dinosaur and now it's dead.

And no matter what it says—_no matter what_—that night _happened_. You both terrorized all the Barbies together 'cause that's what you do, and you're so awesome together and there's nothing _more_ awesome.

And then—then. You can't stop thinking about the toy 'cause you loved it. You're not a pussy or anything, it's a motherfucking dinosaur that walks, but you just can't stop thinking about it. You're like, obsessed with making it notice that _you_ were better than its new lame-ass owner, who's super nice and all and your best friend, but not the _best_ owner ever that you were.

And the toy just kind of drives you crazy in the end. You can't stop. It's your everything, even if you're its nothing because its new owner is stupider or something.

So the thing about Quinn is that she's like that toy you want real bad, but you just can't have.

--

**AN:** I HAD TO PROCRASTINATE.

So this was supposed to be _like_ the iPod challenge that's so popular, but then I decided to make it _not_. Funny how that works, yeah?

Same basic concept; iPod on shuffle, write something to do with the song. BUT; I'm _not_ focusing on a particular pairing (as in this whole thing won't be Puck/Quinn), and I'm gonna keep writing as long as I damn well want, not just between the start and finish of the song.

So basically, a collection of song-based one-shots, with various pairings/friendships.

I KNOW I HAVE OTHER STUFF THAT NEEDS WRITING BUT I WANTED TO PROCRASTINATE AND THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 300 WORDS SHORTER.

**I, uh, don't own anything. Not the song. Not the characters.**

**Not even that motherfucking dinosaur that walks.**


	2. fairytale of new york: puck & rachel

**AN:** Yeah, uh, I know a lot of people dislike reading lyrics in stories. So. Skip over them? :)

--

**Fairytale of New York – The Pogues (Puck & Rachel)**

--

"_They got cars big as bars,  
They got rivers of gold.  
Though, the wind goes right through you;  
It's no place for the old!  
When you first took my hand  
On that cold Christmas Eve,  
You promised me Broadway  
Was waiting for me!"_

"_You were handsome!"  
"__You were pretty,  
Queen of New York City.  
When the band finished playing,  
They howled out for more.  
Sinatra was swinging,  
All the drunks, they were singing.  
We kissed on a corner,  
Then danced through the night."_

--

It starts where it should actually end, because you know what? He's happy. He's happy because she's happy and dancing around in that way that she does that just makes you want to laugh (with her or at her, he's not sure but he knows that it doesn't really matter). He's happy because he's done something right and she's looking at him with big eyes full of hopes&dreams&love and it's all for him because he's not as big a fuck-up as he thought, and it's nice.

It starts with her grabbing his hand and pointing at anything (everything) and talking about whatever she sees to make sure he saw it too, so when they get back they can tell everyone everything together, and all he can think is "she looks pretty" all lit up like that. He can't tell if it's her just being her, or if it's the billions of lights, or if maybe (maybe, hopefully, _please_) it's him that's making her glow.

"Look, Noah!" she says in that way she does. Like when you know she's excited because her eyes get as big as her smile and she sounds all out of breath like she just ran all the way from Lima to Times Square.

"Come on, Rachel," he says in her ear. "_Chicago_'s not gonna wait for you forever, you know." He holds up the tickets and she laughs and then pulls on his face and she's kissing him (and it's never gonna get old).

"This is so exciting," she tells him, and he knows he's made her happier than when they were kids, happier than when she sang alone (for the first time) in front of an audience that she didn't know and they loved her. Happier than when they took home the gold trophy, happier than when they (both) graduated, happier than when he got into college. "Thank you, thank you thank you thank you Noah, it's wonderful, perfect, amazing, the best."

She lifts his hand and twirls herself under it, slamming herself into his chest with a giggle. He can only smile, and wrap his free arm around her waist as they make their way to one of the many theatres.

That night, they return to the hotel and serenade one another as they dance in their room. She slips off his shirt as she says "you're handsome," and he slides her dress off her shoulders as he tells her, "you're pretty."

That night, as they dance under the sheets, all he can tell her is that she's Queen, she's Queen of New York City and he's her King and together, together they're everything important beautiful great never-ending.

--

"_You're a bum, you're a punk."  
"__You're an old slut on junk  
Lying there almost dead  
On a drip in that bed."  
"__You scumbag, you maggot,  
You cheap lousy faggot!  
Happy Christmas your arse,  
I pray God it's our last!"_

--

That's the thing about life. Even though it starts where it should end (with a "happily ever after" and riding a white horse off into the sunset because isn't that what Disney teaches you?), it doesn't end there. And doing something right only makes things go to shit, because he knows (he's _sure_) that they would still have everything if he didn't buy her those fucking tickets to that fucking play, and if they didn't fucking go to New York City for Christmas (he's convinced himself it wouldn't have happened at home), because somehow, somehow (and he's still going to be trying to figure it out years from now) everything still falls to shit and all they can do is yell at each other and hate each other, and how the fuck did this happen to King and Queen of New York City?

It happens like this:

He will always (always) be an immature guy, because he's never been told to grow up by anyone except her. He will always see something funny in someone getting hurt, because that's the kind of guy that he is, and, let's face it, someone slipping on ice and falling face-forward into a street pole is _classic_. Why do clowns do that kind of shit all the time if it's not funny? It's like the pie in the face; a total classic. Every bad situation should have a pie to the face somehow, because it makes it less sad. Like when two trains crash or something: "He's dead, but... there's a cream pie _right_ in his face."

So no one can really blame him for laughing his ass off, right?

She is less amused, because she's the one it's happening to.

It starts to fall apart like this:

"Are you okay?" he says, and he might be laughing a little bit but he can't really help it (but he's trying to, so where's his credit for _that_?).

"No, I'm not. There is _nothing_ funny about this!" she says. "If I can't walk on a street, how am I to be expected to dance on stage, night after night? What do you think Broadway stars _do_?"

He looks at her and he says, "Don't worry about it. You'll be a great star someday. The best." And the thing is, he means every word. She really will be the best of the best on Broadway whenever she makes it, because someone who believes in him _has_ to be the best.

But the thing is, she doesn't believe him. "You are such a _jerk_!" she yells, punching his chest a few times (and for the first time, he doesn't feel like pretending it hurts). "Why can't you take anything seriously, Noah? All the time, you just have unrealistic expectations of the _world_ and you don't feel like you have to work to get there. How do you expect to get anything done in life if you don't _care_ about anything?"

The first thing he thinks is "what the fuck just happened" (followed closely by "I _care_ about _you_, dipshit").

And he's kind of yelling too now, and for the first time in a long time, longer than he can even remember, he can kind of understand what made people always ditch her in high school, and why they still do in college, because she's being a spoiled brat and she's being annoying and it's _not all his fault all the damn time_.

He only realizes how bad it is when she would rather sleep on one of the chairs in the hotel than in the same bed as him. (He offers to switch places with her, because he's not as much of an asshole as she seems to think.)

"Merry Christmas," she says from under the covers. "Hopefully it'll be the last."

(He hopes that he just doesn't hear her say "like this," and that she still wants to work things out, because breaking up because of a _misunderstanding_ is ridiculous.)

--

"_I could have been someone."  
"__Well, so could anyone.  
You took my dreams from me  
When I first found you."  
"__I kept them with me, babe:  
Put them with my own.  
Can't make it out alone,  
I've built my dreams around you."_

--

Where it ends is what should be somewhere around the middle. That big dramatic part, where no one's sure if the King and Queen are going to get back together (but they secretly know that they will, because what kind of shitty-ass story would it be if everyone ended up miserable?). Where it ends is on the ride home, back to college and normal life, without the shining lights and the world never stopping.

She keeps giving him these looks that kind of break his heart a little bit (maybe). Even if he's not looking at her, he can feel it while he drives, and he tries to hold her hand because that's almost as comforting as a kiss to his forehead. But when he tries to touch her hand, she brings it back and puts it on her lap, out of the way, and he pulls over because she's _killing him_.

"Rachel," he says, "what's wrong? Come on. I know we had a fight, but we've had them before and we're still the most kickass couple ever. So what gives? Why's this one different?"

She doesn't look at him, just looks right out the window, and he realizes that he really misses her eyes. "It's a classic case, Noah," she says. "I grew up too fast, and you're not done growing up, and I don't think I'll be able to help you." She nibbles on her lip a little bit like she does when she's nervous sometimes. "I just don't think we're right for each other anymore. I've tried but I can't help but remember that boy who used to throw drinks at me or who only laughed at the bad things people said to me and when you laughed at me not being able to follow my dreams I don't know it just brought it all back and it's all I can think about and I'm really sorry."

"I'm not mature enough?" he says. Okay, so he's kind of angry, but she's totally making it seem like he does everything wrong all the time and she's the victim of everything, but really? No. That's not how it works. "Rachel, high school was all I _had_, and I gave that shit up for you. Did I bitch all the time when the guys started throwing shit on me? Did I bitch when the Glee kids started talking shit about _me_, just because they didn't like _you_? I gave up everything that I had so I could be good enough for you, so what the fuck?"

She's not crying like he expects her to be, but he knows that she will be later because she's crazy and probably thinks that he'll judge her for crying. (He won't he won't he never would he just wants her back he doesn't want her to go _he_ (thinks he)_ loves her_.)

"That doesn't mean anything," she says quietly. "Everyone has dreams that they give up, Noah. It's what a relationship is, because you don't want _all_ of the same things all of the time, so you have to compromise." She clears her throat. "I gave up on leaving Lima right after high school so that I could be with you through college, so that we could move to New York after and rise above everybody."

He wants to tell her that that's a really shitty sacrifice, because he gave something up for _good_, and all she's doing is putting her dreams on hold. But he doesn't, and he instead tells her: "Look, I just wanted to get an education so I could get a job, Rachel. So we could move to New York and I could support you while you were looking for a job. Everything I did was for you. Rach, I built everything around _us_. I'm almost out of college now. Come on. Hold together just a bit longer and I can prove it."

Rachel shakes her head and closes her eyes. She says "I'm sorry" over and over, never-ending (like they're supposed to be) and he drives them back to Lima. He leaves her with her dads and, for the first time in four years, he doesn't walk her to her door.

--

_The boys from the NYPD choir's still singing Galway Bay, and the bells are ringing out for Christmas day._

--

It starts at the end and ends at the middle, and it never goes on. He's stuck like this. He doesn't know for how long—maybe a month, maybe forever.

Funny how the rest of the world goes on living though, isn't it?

--

**AN:** OH GOD WHY DO I WRITE ANGSTY SHIT FOR CHRISTMAS WTF IS WRONG WITH ME I'M SO SORRY.

I wanted to write a Christmas one-shot, and, sad as this song is, it's my favourite Christmas song. I honestly tried writing this story about five times, and hated each version. I just can't get it right, but this is the one I disliked the least, so here we are!

And, uh, cheers to anyone who noticed my reference to Demetri Martin in there. KIIIIIND of an obvious one, I think, but. What can I say? I love the man.

Happy holidays to everyone! :)

**I OWN A MOTHERFUCKING LEVEL 37 HAUNTER POKEMON CARD, but I don't own Glee or the wonderful song.**


End file.
